Part 23 (1/2)

Uncle Frank's eye was stern. Jimmy hesitated. He had been forbidden to go near Sneed's place; and he knew that all that stood between a harness strap and his small jeans was the presence of Dorothy and Cheyenne. It was pretty tough to have recovered the stolen horses single-handed, and then to take a licking for it.

Little Jim gazed hopefully at his father.

”Why, I was chousin' around up there,” he explained, ”and I seen dad's hosses, and--and I started 'em down the trail and the whole blame bunch followed 'em. They was travelin' so fast I couldn't cut 'em out, so I just let 'em drift. Filaree and Josh just nacherally headed for the corral and the rest followed 'em in.”

Uncle Frank gazed sternly at Jimmy. ”Who told you to help your father get his horses?”

”n.o.body.”

”Did your Aunt Jane tell you you could go over to the mountain?”

”I never asked her.”

”You trot right into the house and stay there,” said Uncle Frank.

Little Jim cast an appealing glance at Cheyenne and walked slowly toward the house, incidentally and unconsciously rubbing his hand across his jeans with a sort of antic.i.p.atory movement. He bit his lip, and the tears started to his eyes. But he shook them away, wondering what he might do to avert the coming storm. Perhaps his father would interpose between him and the dreaded harness strap. Yet Jimmy knew that his father had never interfered when a question of discipline arose.

Suddenly Little Jim's face brightened. He marched through the house to the wash bench, and, unsolicited, washed his hands and face and soaped his hair, after which he slicked it down carefully, so that there might be no mistake about his having brushed and combed it. He rather hoped that Uncle Frank or Aunt Jane would come in just then and find him at this unaccustomed task. It might help.

Meanwhile, Cheyenne and his brother-in-law had a talk, outside. Dorothy and Aunt Jane retired to the veranda, talking in low tones. Presently Little Jim, who could stand the strain no longer,--the jury seemed a long time at arriving at a verdict,--appeared on the front veranda, hatless, washed, and his hair fearfully and wonderfully brushed and combed.

”Why, Jimmy!” exclaimed Dorothy.

Jimmy fidgeted and glanced away bashfully. Presently he stole to his Aunt Jane's side.

”Am I goin' to get a lickin'?” he queried.

Aunt Jane shook her head, and patted his hand. Entrenched beside Aunt Jane, Jimmy watched his father and Uncle Frank as they talked by the big corral. Uncle Frank was gesturing toward the mountains. Cheyenne was arguing quietly.

”It ain't just the runnin' off of Sneed's hosses,” said Uncle Frank.

”That's bad enough. But I told Jimmy to keep away from Sneed's.”

”So did I,” declared Cheyenne. ”And seein' as I'm his dad, it's up to me to lick him if he's goin' to get licked.”

”Sneed is like to ride down some night and set fire to the barns,”

a.s.serted Uncle Frank.

”Sneed don't know yet who run off his stock. And he can't say that I did, and prove it. Now, Frank, you just hold your hosses. I'll ride over to camp and get my outfit together and come over here. Then we'll throw Steve Brown's hosses into your pasture, and I'll see that Sneed's stock is out of here, p.r.o.nto.”

”That's all right. But Sneed will trail his stock down here.”

”But he won't find 'em here. And he'll never know they was in your corral.”

Uncle Frank shook his head doubtfully. He was a pessimist and always argued the worst of a possible situation.